ISpy
by abraxis
Summary: Complete. KS. Established relationship. Spock is keeping something secret from Jim.


Title: I-Spy

Author: Abraxisdragon 

Paring: K/S

Rating: R (I hate these things so all is R just for safety's sake and to allow me to write what I will)

Warnings: This is m/m slash with some explicit consensual adult sex. Other than that, there should be nothing offensive.

Disclaimer: Paramount/Viacom owns it all, yada yada yada. I just love it more and this is definitely for love, not money

Summary: Every relationship has its little wrinkles to iron out. Sequel to "Dreams of the Heart" but stands alone as well.

Jim Kirk was pacing. Jim Kirk had been pacing for the last forty-five minutes and Leonard McCoy was getting really tired of watching him do it. It was also very counterproductive to the booze that he had been doling out to calm Jim down.

"Look, Jim, if this is bothering you so much, why don't you just ask Spock what he's doing?"

Jim gave McCoy a dark glare.

"I did. When I saw his name on the shore leave list, I couldn't wait for the shift to end so I could find out what he had planned for us. He went Vulcan on me – told me it was a simple ritual and nothing I need concern myself about and that my presence wasn't required."

Jim ran his hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration. "Damn it, Bones! The last two chances we had for shore leave, I can't get him to set foot off the ship. Now, he takes it without me and tells me, in his own 'respectful' way, that it's none of my damn business what he's doing.

McCoy didn't like the sound of that last statement. Jim Kirk had been his friend for a lot of years. He hadn't approved of what he had seen happening between Jim and Spock. While a totally circumspect and willing First Officer was the perfect balm for any Captain's emotional isolation, that damn Vulcan hoodoo of unbreakable bonding wasn't. Somewhere down the line career choices were going to rear their ugly heads. On top of that, McCoy didn't believe that the emotionally repressed Vulcan was really what his irrepressible friend needed, especially for a life partner.

However, being as straight as the proverbial string, there wasn't any way McCoy could personally offer an alternative choice. Nor had he ever had much luck diverting the 'natural force' that was Jim Kirk when said phenomena had set his mind on something. Spock was the only one who might have been able to do that but, when McCoy had caught the Vulcan studying Jim's ass with an eyebrow raised in appreciation, he had figured that that wasn't happening and had surrendered to the inevitable.

He had reconciled himself to accept what he couldn't change. He had even been the one to force Jim and Spock to face their common attraction and settle matters one way or the other when it had become obvious that Jim was going off the deep end over it. Then, when they had gone beyond being lovers and chosen to become bondmates, he had cursed the gods and prepared himself to pick up the pieces of Jim Kirk when the relationship blew up in his face. He just hadn't expected to have to be doing that so soon. He hoped that a little off the cuff marriage counseling would suffice.

"Well, maybe that's your answer, Jim. Spock has one of those 'deep, dark' Vulcan things he has to do. He'll get it done and then things will be back to normal again. You just got to be patient. Don't tell me you didn't think that something like this wouldn't come up. Hell, Jim, no couple can be joined at the hip all the time."

Jim spun on McCoy. "Damn it, Bones, you don't know what you're talking about! Spock and I are tied even tighter than that. We're joined at the mind – 24 / 7/ 365. Neither of us has to ask the other how his day was. We already know. Only … only now I don't. The minute he hit planetside, he shut down the bond until I barely know that he's alive."

"And this is the first time he's done that? Seems to me that every time he gets his nose into some project or other, you're driving the rest of us crazy with inspections and such to keep yourself busy, keep from having to go back to your quarters until you're so exhausted you can fall asleep before you get the chance to think about him not being there."

"This is different. Sure, he would get totally immersed in his projects, be less … less there in my head, but he didn't shut me off like this. I was just keeping busy so I wouldn't bother him. If I let myself think too much about wanting him with me, he'd break off whatever he was doing and … well, he didn't really jeopardize any of his work but … Anyway, we worked that out over six months ago. I finally convinced him that no matter how bad what I was feeling seemed to him, it was just part of being Human – that I wasn't going to go crazy just because I was feeling lonely once in a while."

"But isn't that just what you **are** doing, Jim. Spock's only been gone three days and you're wearing holes in the deck plates. I also know that you haven't eaten a decent meal and aren't sleeping either. Besides, if you worked out the problem six months ago, how come you still go workaholic every time he locks himself in the lab?"

To McCoy's amazement, Jim Kirk looked slightly embarrassed. Then he flashed one of his wicked, 'I've been a bad boy' smiles. "Well, … I found out that the more I could get done and out of the pending files, the more time we could take off duty when Spock's project was finished. Besides, I stopped getting all those nasty nags from the paper pushers back at Headquarters. It just seemed like a good idea to keep it up."

The idea that Headquarters was finally getting its 'pound of paperwork' out of the Enterprise in a timely manner only because her captain wanted to have more cuddle time with his First Officer made McCoy want to have a good belly laugh. The only thing that forced him to stifle it was the worried look that returned to Jim's face.

"Well, if this is nothing but plain old Human emotion that you can deal with, why aren't you? Dealing with it, I mean?"

"I told you! This is different! Spock isn't just absorbed; he's almost non-existent. And … he's miserable!"

"I thought you said you could barely tell that he was alive?"

"I can also tell that he's miserable!"

"Well then, I suggest that you take your own advice."

"What?"

"If you expect Spock to trust you to handle a little Human loneliness, I'd say that you'd better trust him to handle a little Vulcan miserable-ness."

The invented sound of that last word told McCoy it was time he put the stopper in the bottle of Saurian Brandy that they had been sharing. Jim Kirk could drink a Klingon under the table and McCoy, southern gentlemen's reputation aside, couldn't.

Whether it was this call for sobriety or McCoy's last, rather cutting, piece of advice that influenced him, Jim ended the conversation by walking out of McCoy's office. He was obviously in an even worse mood than he had been in when he walked in to it. McCoy decided that he wasn't going to be getting any awards for his expertise as a marriage councilor.

Jim Kirk stormed through the gangways of the Enterprise toward his quarters. As fond as he was of Bones, sometimes the man could really piss him off. This was one of those times. Humans were supposed to feel lonely – Vulcan's weren't supposed to feel miserable! And this wasn't a matter of Jim trusting Spock to handle it – it was a matter of Spock not trusting Jim to be able to do that. Keeping busy to control feelings wasn't the same as shutting down their bond to hide them!

When Jim had decided to accept the bonding he had known that, without the Vulcan ability to control the bond, he was signing-up for a lifetime of total mental intimacy. He'd be damned if he was going to allow Spock to share any less than that just because he could control the Bond. For better or for worse meant just that. If his bondmate thought he was going to start protecting him from the 'worse' part of it, treating him as if his 'delicate' Human mind wasn't capable of handling a full partnership, he could just think again. Vulcan ritual secrecy could just take a hike!

He was surprised when Uhura reported that the position of Spock's communicator was in a very rough and isolated part of the planet's nature preserve. Then he chastised himself for raw stupidity. It wasn't like Spock would be doing some Vulcan ritual in the middle of a museum or research library. He asked for and received another set of coordinates just far enough away to keep the Vulcan's extraordinary ears from picking up the sound of his beam-down and behind a chain of small hills to keep him from seeing it. If Uhura had any suspicions as to what her captain might be up to, she kept them to herself. After making sure he had the odd mix of Human and Vulcan genetics that would pinpoint Spock set into his tricorder, he filched a basic survival pack from Stores and headed for the transporter room.

A few seconds after giving the coordinates to the operator on duty and stepping on the pad, Jim found himself facing a problem. What had seemed like a small hill on the topology map was presenting him with a damn near sheer cliff peppered with loose shale. If he didn't want to risk shredded hands and, at the least, a sprained ankle or two or, at the worse, a broken neck, he was going to have to go around it rather than over it. Checking the topology on his tricorder, he found that there was a passage of sorts between the hills about a mile to his right. With a mild curse at himself for his lack of planning, Jim turned and began trotting toward it.

The pass between the hills turned out to be more the small hill that Jim had planned on. Some time in the past, it had been the site of a landslide but, luckily for Jim, was obstructed with gravel and boulders of a more granite-like rock rather than the treacherous shale. It wasn't easy going but it wasn't apt to cause broken bones as long as he exercised a little caution.

The real aggravation was the temperature. It was damn hot. The jog to the pass had already caused his tunic to be soaked with sweat under his arms and down his spine. By the time he was halfway through the pass, his whole uniform was sopping and his boots were getting squishy. He amused himself with inventing colorful curses for a certain stubborn Vulcan.

When Jim finally emerged from the pass, he found a large mesa strewn with the same granite boulders he had been climbing over and graced with a few patches of forest. But the jewel among the rubble was a lake of crystal clear water reflecting the blue sky. As he wiped a soggy lock of hair from his forehead and drank some of the tepid water from the survival kit, that cool, clear lake was a chorus of sirens – naked, voluptuous sirens – luring him away from his purpose. However, what plugged ears had done for the Argonauts the increased awareness of Spock's unsettled emotions did for Jim Kirk.

Settling for another swig from the water bottle, Jim scanned the area with his tricorder. The blip designating the life-form of his bondmate was located very near the lake but hidden from view by a pile of large boulders. Since the ground between was a mixture of soft sand and silky dust, Jim slipped off his sweat soaked boots and socks as much for comfort as to increase the possibility of his being able to sneak up on his lover without being caught at it. After making the crossing as stealthily as possible, Jim peeked over one of the smaller boulders and found himself staring directly at the object of his quest. The sight took his breath away.

Spock was facing the lake, his back to Jim. He was kneeling on the pitch-black expanse of his meditation robe that was spread neatly over the creamy sand. He was naked. The patinaed ivory of his skin was highlighted by the contrasting ebony of both the robe and the silky strands of hair that framed his beautiful ears and strong neck – ears and neck that Jim's tongue and lips began aching to caress.

Jim forced his eyes away from these enticements only to find others as he visually traced the lines of broad shoulders and back, to narrower waist and finally manly but provocatively curved buttocks. Jim's hands joined his tongue and lips in a silent chorus of lusty desire. When his cock began singing in baritone counterpoint against the tight material of his trousers, Jim lost all thought of his intention to find out what Spock had come here to hide from him. However, before he could act on his new purpose, Spock stood, his posture still one of deep meditation, walked toward the lake and threw himself into the water.

Jim went into full mind-lock.

Vulcans drank water. Vulcans worshiped water as any desert-world dweller would. But … Vulcans took to being submersed in water just about as well as most ordinary house cats! They absolutely hated it! And … Spock's being half Human hadn't mitigated that attitude one little bit. No cadet left the Academy without learning how to swim. It was required survival training. It was also the only less than perfect mark on Spock's otherwise spotless academic record.

He had made the necessary one lap the length of the pool and back for a minimum passing grade on the first day of that training and then cited his right due to cultural prohibitions to accept that low mark and to refuse any further participation until the class had moved on to the next section of the course. Since he was the first Vulcan to choose to attend the Academy proper instead of the Vulcan annex and accept general assignment to any ship in the fleet, no one was inclined to question his interpretation of Vulcan cultural prohibitions on such a minor part of the curriculum.

There were however heavy speculations as to how he had managed to learn to perform a perfect breaststroke his first and only session in the pool. This speculation was renewed as every new Vulcan cadet to follow in his footsteps managed the same miracle. It was now considered one of those 'deep, dark' Vulcan things that McCoy had mentioned.

The question was what was Spock doing sneaking off from his bondmate to break that tradition?

While Jim was still mulling this over, Spock turned back toward the shore which forced Jim to duck behind his rock again until a frustrated sigh told him that Spock was once again settled on his robe. Jim watched from this vantage point as Spock repeated the cycle of meditation, lake and more meditation for three more rounds. He found that it wasn't even necessary to duck whenever Spock returned from his sessions in the water. Spock was maintaining his deep meditation even then.

As time passed, the sun was beating down even hotter and the proximity of the cool, refreshing water was driving Jim crazy; as was the proximity of his very naked, very desirable bondmate. But, Jim had a problem. His initial anxiety concerning Spock's retreat relieved, he wasn't sure just how he should go about interrupting his strange behavior. He was racking his brain for some way to do that when Spock suddenly pounded the sand with both fists and made the most exasperated sound Jim had ever heard from him. Almost at the same moment, his meditative state broken, Spock spun around and stared directly into Jim's eyes.

"What are you doing here!"

The full frontal view of his bondmate, posed as for attack, muscles taunt and defined, their lines accentuated by ebony hair seal slick from the lake water, made Jim's belly go tight and his cock drool in anticipation. Then, as he watched Spock's initial surprise morph into rigid Vulcan indignity, he was reminded that being caught spying on his spouse didn't put him in a very favorable position here. Well, the best solution for a weak defense was always a strong offence. Putting on his best 'offended party' face, he fixed his eyes on Spock's, stood, and stalked around the boulder and toward Spock until he was barely inches from him.

"I intended to ask my bondmate why he thought it was necessary to put a strangle hold on our bond. Now, I'm considering if he needs to be committed to the nearest mental health facility. What in the hell are you doing to yourself? And don't try to tell me this is some Vulcan ritual. I know for a fact that nothing Vulcan would involve trying to drown yourself!"

Spock wasn't buying Jim's act. Jim could feel a ripple of amusement through the bond.

"I assure you I was in no danger of drowning. Did you really find the suppression of our bond so distressing, T'hy'la?"

The caress of Spock's deep, honeyed voice curled Jim's toes. He struggled to keep up his affronted pose.

"You're damn right I did! Not only were you barely there, what was there felt awful! You were hurting and I didn't know why. You weren't letting me know why. What happened to that touching and being touched, apart but never parted shit? Or does that only apply when your bondmate isn't a weak-minded Human that you have to protect!"

As the words rolled out of his mouth, Jim realized the full extent of the resentment he felt toward Spock for this. He didn't need to fake his offensive position anymore. He **was** the aggrieved party, damn it! He was suddenly angry, very angry. His body vibrated with it and remained stiff as Spock drew him close in a rare, non-sexual embrace rather than offering the usual touch of fingers.

"I apologize, Kin-kur, my Golden. I did not realize that I was allowing you to feel any of my unease. You continue to surprise me with the strength of your mind, not the weakness of it. I did not limit our contact to protect you. I did it to deceive you." Jim stiffened even further but Spock only held him all the tighter and continued. "I have been attempting to prepare a surprise for you for the celebration of the first anniversary of our joining. It is an important Human custom, is it not? However, it seems that not only have I failed in that endeavor but have also caused you distress as well. If either of us is proving inept at adjusting to the other's expectations, it is I not you. "

The loving concern and regret that flooded through the bond turned Jim's anger inside out. Wrapping his arms around Spock, savoring the silky heat of his naked skin, he lifted his lips to his lover's and seduced him into a deep, succulent kiss. Spock instantly accepted the sincerity of Jim's forgiveness. Within seconds, Jim was on his back on the meditation robe with a very aroused Vulcan concentrating intently on driving him into passionate insanity.

Stripping off Jim's tunic, Spock pinned his arms wide and proceeded to worship his body with kisses, tongue strokes, nips and nibbles until Jim was writhing and pleading beneath him. Then, fastening his mouth on Jim's, he ravished it while thrusting against him, pelvis to pelvis, in a wanton frenzy — his naked, heavily engorged cock rutting hard and fast against Jim's equally aroused, cloth entrapped one. Their bodies on fire, their bond molten silver, they soared into the nova of climax screaming each other's name into each other's mouth.

Luxuriating in the afterglow as Spock cuddled him close, Jim replayed the words of Spock's apology and found himself rather puzzled. He gently voiced this.

"T'hy'la, just what does torturing yourself in this lake have to do with a surprise for me?"

He felt a tinge of irritation but it was directed at Spock himself, not at Jim.

"I was attempting to remove my aversion to being in excessive contact with water. I … I have seen the desire in your mind for us to join under such conditions." Jim saw flashes of some of his most erotic tub and shower fantasies. "I had hoped that I would be able to satisfy that desire as part of our celebration. I am quite disappointed that I have had so little success in alleviating my discomfort."

Jim wanted to laugh. Then, he wanted to cry. That Spock had been putting himself through this abuse to give him an erotic fantasy as an anniversary gift was … it was humbling. What had he ever done to deserve such love? God help him be enough to live up to it.

"Stop being disappointed. The reality of touching fingers with you is more satisfying that any fantasy I've ever had. **But, **if you ever even think of doing something like this to yourself again, I'll … " For a moment, Jim couldn't think of a punishment that wouldn't be as hard on him as it was on Spock. Then the wicked little light bulb lit up. "I'll tell McCoy that you're being mean to me."

Jim didn't need to look up to know that Spock's eyebrow was arching toward his hairline.

"Then I fear that I would be inclined to lodge a similar complaint with 'Mother' Kirk."

"Spock!"

"Jim."

"All right. No involving the in-laws. Just don't. Ok? I like you just the way you are."

"As I you, T'hy'la. As I you."

FIN


End file.
